Page 37 of Blue Lines and Lullabies

“We can get a table,” she offers, pointing toward the quiet section in the back.

“So you can take advantage of me? I think not,” I joke. In reality, the bartender has been saving the two seats where we met so Icouldactually recreate a good chunk of the evening. As soon as we’re seated, drinks are placed in front of us. A beer for me and a margarita for Cassie. She looks at me, her brow furrowed in confusion, with one eyebrow cocked as she studies me. I bite my lip as I fight the smile that is aching to escape, and shrug in response.

I’m not surprised when Cassie orders her favorite meal. We don’t go out to dinner very often, choosing instead to cook at home, but whenever we do, Cassie orders chicken alfredo. Considering almost every restaurant in the country has some version of the dish, I know to expect that order. She doesn’t know that I always watch her take the first bite because she does a little happy dance every damn time. More times than not, the dance is accompanied by a high-pitched hum as she gleefully scoops up another bite. It’s my favorite thing to see whenever we have a meal together.

I remember every detail from the night we met. Everything, even down to the outfit she wore. If it wasn’t in the nineties today, I would have carefully laid out her clothes from that night to see if she took the bait. Instead, I discussed almost every topic we covered and asked her if anything was different. She agreed that Denver sports fans are rabid, and the weather changes every five seconds. She was still unprepared for how windy it gets here, but loves watching the sunset over the Rockies no matter the temperature.

As dinner draws to a close and we’re walking out of the restaurant, arms wrapped around each other, I lean down and whisper in her ear. “Care to have a little walk down memory lane?”

As I steer her toward the hotel, she giggles. “Gabe Dawson, are you asking me to make out in an elevator with you?”

“That, among other things,” I respond.

We swiftly walk past the reservations desk and grab the same elevator we used so many months ago. I, of course, take the opportunity to push her against the wall and kiss the hell out of her. I pick her up and throw her over my shoulder when we get to the floor.

“Gabe!” she squeals.

“That’s not what you’re supposed to say,” I respond, smacking her butt.

“Oh, we’re going for accuracy?” she teases.

“Of course, Firecracker. Chop-chop.”

“Good Lord,” she mutters. “Room nine-fourteen.”

I take off, running down the hallway, skidding to a stop in front of the room. Bending, I let Cassie slide down my body, then turn her so she’s facing the door. I begin kissing her neck as she shivers against me.

“Okay, we should probably stop. What if someone is in here?” she whispers.

“I’m pretty sure the room is empty.”

“How could you possibly know that?” she asks.

I pull the key out of my pocket and wave it in front of the reader. “Because it’s our room for the night.”

As I push the door open, I subtly move Cassie, so she’s further into the room. “What is flickering in here?”

“What? I can’t see anything,” I lie. It’s battery-operated tea light candles. Obviously, I can’t have real candles going when I didn’t know when we’d be here tonight. “Hey, can you reach the light switch? It’s right by you,” I tell her.

As soon as she turns on the light, Cassie gasps.

The room is covered in peonies. Cassie once told me she wasn’t the biggest fan of roses, although I have a couple dozen roses scattered on the floor. She likes how roses smell but hates how they almost always seem to die incredibly quickly. When I asked her what her favorite flower was, she got utterly glassy-eyed as she expressed her love for peonies.

So, I bought out the peony population of Denver. It took me visiting six different florists yesterday, and one online bulk order that arrived this morning at the hotel. I’ve got white, pink, coral, lavender, and peach-colored peonies. It’s a spectacular sight, but my gaze is glued to Cassie. When she turns to face me, tears in her eyes, I’m already down on one knee.

“Firecracker,” I begin, “I knew the moment I met you that I wouldn’t be the same man I was before you. Every day, you remind me of how much of a gift you are. I’m humbled to be yours, Cass. I watch you with Mackenzie, and I know there isn’t anyone else who could possibly be more perfect for us. You make me want to be a better man, and I hope you’ll want me to be an even better husband. I’d be honored if you’d be my wife.”

She laughs, a teary laugh that sings to my soul. “Are you asking me, or telling me?”

“Both.”

Cassie bends down to grab my face, giving me a quick kiss. “Of course you are. I answer yes to both.”

“Thank fuck,” I breathe, standing and picking her up to spin her around. Cassie squeals as she wraps her arms around my neck. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too,” she murmurs into my neck.

“Do you want to see your ring?”

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